


All For None

by Phrenotobe_Archive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Pirate AU, Piratestuck, Swordfighting, privateers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrenotobe_Archive/pseuds/Phrenotobe_Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three rival pirates. One duel. Captaincy in the balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All For None

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm filling your prompt, let me know your AO3 and I'll put it to your account as a gift.

"Nothing personal," Dave says, dropping the contract between the three set mugs of unidentifiable brew on the table. Eridan snags it with the tip of his knife to bring it over to look at, and Kanaya settles for patiently waiting until Eridan is finished and letting Dave ramble on.  
"So I need a ship and I guess I can admit you both know what that shit is about so I want to recruit you. You'll get ten percent of everything, a parrot each if you want one, and a pretty cushy place right under the captain's rooms. What do you say, huh? First one in is my first mate and the other guy gets to be midshipman."  
Kanaya fixes Dave with a stare that makes him put his hands up to adjust his eyeliner, spreading the smudge down to the hollow above his cheekbones, still oily.  
"What say you, Maryam?" he tries to stay chipper.  
Eridan slams the paper down on the table, slapping the tabletop with the palm of his hand.  
"I ain't doing it," he says, his manner salty as the soles of his boots, "Next time you want ta pull the wool over, do it to people who can't fuckin' read. Those berths are shit, this is ten percent is between us, an’ I don't think i'm gonna share with anybody."  
Kanaya sniffs at Eridan's manner, and casually pulls his drink out from under his nose, leaving it closer to the centre of the table.  
"I agree," she says bluntly, "With Eridan, for once. We are all competent and literate sailors and I think I want to strike out on my own. I'm not going to be your first mate," she says, and slight-of-hand exchanges her empty cup with Eridan's while she talks, "Or his."  
"Cold," Dave says, reaching to grab for the contract. Eridan lifts his knife and gestures with it, before rolling the contract up and tucking it into his pocket.  
“Gonna need that so’s I can write yours an’ Maryam’s names in it later,” he says smugly.

They meet on the docks at midnight, which is an auspicious hour for both man and troll. Dave's hair is sleep-ruffled, still in clothes from earlier that day; Kanaya's dress a moody colour that shows itself to be a bright and angry red under the street illumination, her forearms covered in tough leather painted green and embossed with her sign. Eridan has removed his sash and most of his frills, his fins fluttering outwards in a wary display.  
“No killin’,” Eridan says, a parrying dagger in one hand and a hefty looking cutlass in the other, “Just first blood.”  
“Yeah, first blood,” Dave agrees. His hand and a half is in his hands, snapped off a third of the way down. Kanaya puts her hand to a scabbard on a belt across her body, shifting the sword forward with a noiseless nudge of the thumb behind the hilt.  
“Count ‘a three,” Eridan says.  
They get to two before there’s a clash of metal on metal, Eridan on one side and Kanaya’s serrated rapier locking into a grind on the other with Dave’s broken blade angled underneath.  
“Easy,” Dave says, “Easy now.”  
Eridan laughs, although not kindly.  
Dave withdraws for a moment, a neat step back with a quick twist, light on his feet and waiting for an opening. Kanaya and Eridan’s swords scrape away with a discordant grind, she to the right and he to the left, a wary eye from both. Stepping counterclockwise with their swords ready but not raised, Kanaya steps grandly forward, a lunge with the point. Eridan parries neatly with the edge of his blade, filling in the space behind her arm with a forward strike by his hilt that thuds against her thorax, making her lose a breath. She staggers back as Dave comes in swinging, his heavy blade knocking Eridan’s cutlass down with a painful twist of the wrist and sweeping across to angle Kanaya’s rapier out of the way. Eridan brings up his dagger like a scorpion sting to draw a hot red line over dave’s forearm.  
“Shit,” Dave says loquaciously, and drops his sword to twist at the hip and punch Eridan in the nose. Eridan bears back with a reactive hiss, grabs his sword and brings it up.  
Kanaya cuts swiftly down with another metallic scrape, stance wide. Eridan is on one knee, the dagger held and pointed toward Dave, his sword arm extended in a graceful arc to divert Kanaya’s blade. Kanaya raises the point of her weapon, allowing Eridan to raise.  
He gets abruptly on to both feet, his stance ready and his face pulled into an ugly snarl. Dave puts his sword back in his belt, waiting and watching.  
One hand tucked back, Kanaya makes the first move again, a short step and an intimidating hiss that makes Eridan’s fins flare. His arm comes up with the dagger again, scraping over her leather armguards and marring the surface. She loops her arm around his, pinching underneath it under the bicep and shoving with her sword. He drops the dagger with an upset growl, grabbing a fistfull of her dress in kind. Neither lets go, swords jammed together and bodies locked scant inches from one another, blades up by their faces.  
“You’re gonna fuckin dance naked for my crew,” he says with a leer.  
She turns her head for moments as if in disgust, and his mouth pulls up into a victorious smile; he lets go for less than a second before he realizes her head is coming toward him at speed, and he roars in frustration as his nose is smashed into an out-of-kilter bend, purple blood beginning to issue from his nostrils. He drops his weapon with a clang.  
“We sail with the Timeful Maid the day after tomorrow,” she says, putting up a hand to feel her own forehead for a bruise, “You will be purchasing supplies.”  
Eridan cusses into his hands indistinctly, waving off Dave’s aid with his free hand. The human dips to pick up Eridan’s sword and hand it to him, ignoring the sputtering seatroll’s angry protests, and picks at the cut on his own arm as he watches her sheathe her sword and leave.  
“Catch your beauty sleep, Kan,” he calls after her back.


End file.
